


The Legend of the Dark Claw: the Assassins of Yortham

by Greyforrester



Series: Amalgamverse [1]
Category: Amalgam Comics, DCU, Marvel
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28667736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyforrester/pseuds/Greyforrester
Summary: An attempt on a Yortham city resident's life awakens old memories, which enable him to fight back against the rotten elements of his home.
Series: Amalgamverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100966





	The Legend of the Dark Claw: the Assassins of Yortham

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of each chapter are notes on the cast of characters and which Marvel and DC characters they're combined from.

Wracked with brilliant pain, Logan  struggled through pristine white snow. His body, protected only from the waist down by a pair of flimsy pants, started to seize up. His pursuers, a horde of men clad in black and a helicop t er raining gunfire down on him, caught up with him. He extended his claws and turned on the  mob . The y drew blades from their backs and lunged at Logan. Several of the blades penetrated  between his rib s , but Logan ignored them, slashing back at them with an absolute fury. The helicopter landed and a man in a green cloak and a silver broadsword emerged. The men Logan hadn't yet stabbed stood back as the cloak continued his approach. Logan pried each of the blades out of his torso and turned to him, Logan held the last blade in his hand and attacked the cloaked man. With his first swipe the man cut Logan's sword in half and with a following stab he perforated his heart. Then Logan woke up...

... in complete darkness....

... and with a foul odour filling his nose.

  
  


# Chapter 1 - A Belated Return

Logan stood up, shaking. The pain his body had been experiencing had only just started to subside. As he leant against a wall, he realised something was covering his right-hand eye. He tore it off, and he saw an eyepatch in his hand, his newly uncovered eye could make out the sewers adequately. He remembered that he was in a bar, gambling under an assumed name, 'Patch' Malone. Before he could recall more of his unfortunate night, he could hear something else in the sewers; a frequent thud that grew closer. As it approached, he could hear gurgling and breathing. Logan figured it was something big and something he was in no condition to fight, as such he turned tail and ran. As he fled, he could hear the breathing and footsteps hasten. He stumbled and fell nose-first into the flowing sewage. The nausea and pain almost proved too much for Logan, until he heard the sound of traffic ahead. With one more mental push he sprinted towards the noise and found another manhole. He climbed up the ladder and punched the lid loose. As he emerged onto the street he was hit by a car. He crawled off the street and into an alley, vomiting into some trash bags that were plentifully strewn across its side. He briefly clawled a bit further into the alley before his body gave out, falling onto a bag of hard garbage.

Flashes of memories flooded his dreams. One saw him looking at himself in a mirror, he was wearing a black, metal cowl with pointed ears and wearing Kevlar armour, he saw bony white spikes protruding from between the knuckles of his hands. The bones were a far cry form the silvery blades that have emerged from his fists since as far back as he cold remember. In his dreams, other men would refer to him as Jimmy Wayne, men wearing pinstripe suits and talking like they're from an old black-and-white movie. Logan could feel himself getting tugged at by invisible forces, jolting him awake. He saw several men on top of him, grabbing at the insides of his jacket.

"Fuck," Logan muttered. He grabbed one of the dozen arms reaching at him and dug a claw into it. The crowd parted as his victim recoiled, this gave space for Logan to get onto his feet, with men both in front and behind him. A few of his harassers pulled out blades. Logan extended all his claws. He felt something poking his back and a blade enter his neck. He spun around and slashed wildly, disarming one of his attackers by slicing his arm off. He spun back around to see the men at his rear approaching him, he dug one of his sets of claws into one's chest and swiped at another, cutting his torso.

"Goddamn! This guy's a freak," One of the men panicked. The ones in the crowd who had been cut by Logan laid on the ground, whimpering and clutching their wounds. Those he hadn't cut fled quickly. Logan took and inspected his victims' wallets, taking a considerable amount of cash from each.

"Good thing they gave you payment in advance, for me anyway," Logan commented casually. He walked onto the street and stopped a taxi, climbing into the shotgun seat and placing several notes onto the dashboard. "I'll give you the rest once you drop me off at the woods around Yortham," he offered.

"You smell like shit," the driver observed, irritated.

"The sooner you take me to the woods, the quicker it will leave," Logan urged.

After a seemingly interminable drive. Logan had arrived at the woods, he gave the rest of his cash to the driver, who sped off so fast his that the tyres screeched.

After hours of trudging through the forest, he saw a manor in the distance. Logan approached the east side of the manor, placed his eyepatch back on, and began climbing it. Once he was six floors high, he used his claw to force a window open. Inside the room was a piano, lightly dusty, and several bookshelves, mostly empty. On the back of one of the bookshelves were three oval holes, evenly spaced apart, as evenly as his claws were, which gave him an idea. He deployed the claws on his hand and inserted them into the holes. As they did the bookshelf inched back, Logan pushed more and it moved back further.

"What in the blazes do you think you're doing," said an English-accented voice behind Logan. He turned to see an old man, well dressed.

"I'm opening a secret entrance, wanna see what's behind it with me?" Logan offered as he continued to push it back.

"I will not suffer intruders, leave or I'll call the police," the old man demanded. Meanwhile Logan was ignoring him and instead was figuring out what to do next with the furniture. Then it hit him, 'slide it to the right!' he thought. As he slid it it revealed a long vertical opening in front of him, one that was slightly wider than his arm-span and was deep enough to go below the manor.

"Look, old man, it'll take the police at least an hour to get here, and that's if they're keen for a free tour of this manor, otherwise you might be waiting two or three, so how about I show you a part of this place I guarantee you've never seen before?" Logan offered, but before the old man could answer, Logan jumped down. As he did he dug his blades into the sides of the wall, slowing his fall. At the bottom was near total darkness, Logan took off his eyepatch to see the cavern that he'd entered. He flicked a switch that he could see to his side, causing several lights to appear along with several more turning on for an instant before popping. He stowed his patch again and inspected the dimly lit area. He could see an outfit hung up, consisting of a metal helmet with pointed ears and kevlar armour, he recognised it form his dreams. He could also see a safe, one half his height in size, with a wheel on it's front. He pressed his ear against the door and began slowly turning it. After hearing a third subtle click, it opened. In it were papers, both printed and hand written, papers relating to investments and trust funds pertaining to a Wayne Inc.. The handwriting looked exactly like Logan's own. He also saw a fingerprint on the cover of a document titled 'The men of many faces'. He carefully examined it and took his right-hand glove off, examining his thumb’s print.

"I've gone and made the call now, you have an hour to explain who you are and how you knew of this place," the old man advised.

"I'm the man who's going to own this place soon, and in this safe is all the paperwork I need. Call me Logan Wayne." Logan spoke casually but happily. "You can work for me if you want, but you'll have to tell me your name first."

"Consider me incredibly sceptical. As for my name; it's Jarvis Alfred Edwin Pennyworth the third," he said, bemused.

**Character combinations:**

  * Logan Wayne is a combination of James Howlett/Logan/Wolverine and Bruce 'Batman' Wayne.
  * Jarvis Alfred Edwin Pennyworth or Jarvis 'Pennyjar' Pennyworth is a combination of Edwin Jarvis and Alfred Pennyworth.



# Chapter 2 – The Third Face

Later that day, Logan took a much needed shower. Later that week, he had convinced the lawyers representing Wayne Inc. that he was a descendant of James 'Jimmy' Wayne. Finally, later that month, he was being briefed on what Wayne Inc. actually did; they mostly did research into medicine and technology and owned several studios for Film and Television production that the rented out. Logan was particularly interested in the technology aspect and asked to inspect their wares.

"David Fox will be with you shortly, best not to touch anything in here without his say so," The Wayne Inc. employee advised before leaving. Logan wandered around, he could see a vast array of 3D printers. He was concerned at how many of the devices he saw were some variant of gun, although none looked like they shot bullets.

"Heh, you're the first visitor I’ve had here in ages," A strange young voice said. Logan turned and saw an old man, although one with more colour in his hair, standing at the entrance.

"You must be David Fox, right?" Wayne asked.

"I am, but you're not here for my charming personality, you're here for the goods," David beamed. "What you see there is a triple claw grappling hook; it can fire three claws, each is attached to a cord that can hold about 70 pounds." Logan moved over and pointed to a blocky looking gun, it had what appeared to be bulbs on its front and at the sides, near the grip. "That's a directed EMP beam weapon, with the front piece it'll interfere with anything you point and shoot it at. Without it, it'll emit the pulse omnidirectionally. The military didn't pick it up out of concern for their own electronics. Not to mention how much power it eats up. Probably wouldn't do you much good either, if you had a pacemaker.”

Logan turned to look at something much larger concealed under a plastic sheet asking, “What's that?”

“Oh, just some tarp we got lying around,” he replied coyly.

Logan unveiled it, revealing an angular contraption resembling a tank and a jet. “Tarp all the way down, I see,” Logan replied sardonically.

“It was made for combat in Qura-kira, insurgents there had a habit of leaving cars, busses and that in the middle of streets.” David explained, “The things'd pop up like damn weeds, apparently. So we were given the contract for a vehicle that'd cut through them in seconds, this is what we came up with. Sadly by the time we got the damn thing working, the enemy had stopped using roadblocks and became more reliant on IEDs.”

“Got anything else under the hood?” Logan persisted.

“Sure, it's got a pair of grenades launchers behind the driver, and a pair of grappling hooks out the front. In a pinch it can spew out smoke from the wheels and the front. Also it's equipped with an afterburner, if going from zero to sixty in four seconds isn't quite quick enough for you. Finally it can turn and brake on a dime.” Logan continued to stare at it for some time before David made him an offer. “It's got a built-in computer with a simulation program if you wanna give it sort of a spin.”

“Sure!” Logan responded, trying to restrain his eagerness.

“Before I let you in there, I want know what you plan to do with the Applied Sciences division, especially me.”

“What do you suggest?” Logan asked.

“For starters, I could use some company. I'll need at least a few dozen people, with qualifications running the gamut of sciences and engineering, and an attractive starting wage.”

“How does a budget of 10 million sound?” Logan offered.

“Shit, I’ll take it!” David said.

…

The next day, Logan headed to the nearest bar to the sewers he found himself in, pursuing the theory that he was ambushed and knocked out in the moments before. He was back in his Patch Malone outfit and had just entered the mostly quiet joint, the barkeeper looked at him with astonishment.

“You serving ghosts now?” Logan commented, rhetorically.

“Nah, but you'll be my first, Patch. I'd offer you a drink on the house but you almost drained this place out last time.” The barkeep commented with a thousand-yard stare on his face.

“If I told you that I don't remember my last trip here, would you recap me?” Logan asked, politely and slightly apprehensively.

“Wow, you usually take your liquor like a champ, but that night you kinda went nuts. It happened right after Billy Zsasz shook your hand.”

“Wait, you mean 'Jigsaw' Zsasz?” Logan was incredulous.

“Yeah, he shook your hand and moments later you had a freak out. You put five of my patrons in the hospital before you stopped and the other four dragged you out of here, I thought you were dead, given that it was 'Jigsaw' and his friends.” The Barkeeper elaborated.

“You know where I can find him,” Logan asked, casually.

“Ya kiddin' right? Zsasz is a nutcase.” The barkeep replied, once again in bewilderment.

“It wasn't the drink that got to me, he pricked me with something and it hurt like hell. I gotta know where he got it from. Don't try and talk me out of this, bub. I promise I won't go after him half-cocked.” Logan assuaged him.

“Look, there's a lot of people like 'Jigsaw' in this city, people who have spilled a lot of blood, and I mean a **lot**. You fuck with him and you'll have all of the most dangerous people in this city, hell, in this **world** on your ass.” The barkeep lectured. Logan only nodded his head confidently.

“Look, I won't rope you into this, I ain't stupid. This'll mean we won't be seeing each other much anymore. Take this.” Logan handed him a cheque, “Clear my tab, keep the rest.”

…

Two officers broke down the door and stormed a bare apartment, guns drawn. They quickly made their way through it, calling out “Clear” as they checked each room. One heard a thud and something falling on the floor in the next room. He hurried over to see a black mass with glowing white eyes standing over his partner.

“Freeze!” he called out, his gun shaking in his hands.

“Billy Zsasz, also called Jigsaw. Multiple murderer. Tell me, Officer Gordon Stacey, why is he a free man?” It demanded, turning to the officer, revealing its face. It had glowing white eyes, pointed ears and rough, black skin, which it hid under a cloak.

“I- I don't know, we sent him to Arkham Tower and next I hear of him he's out and maiming more people. I'm as mad as you probably are about this, but the higher ups don't seem to give a shit,” The officer vented.

“Perhaps I can convince you and your fellow officers to keep him on a tighter leash. Provided I know what the police do,” it bargained. “What do you know about him?”

“Well, I know he made bank off modelling until he got into a fight with some military guy. The guy ended up putting his face through glass, three times. Now he's obsessed with mutilation, every time he cuts up a new target he marks it on his own skin.” The officer rattled off.

“I'm going to need more from you, **much** more. Place this into your partner's computer, it'll give me a backdoor to Yortham Police's data.” It hinted at an ultimatum, as it dropped a USB stick on the other officer.

After some thought, Gordon replied, “You want me to frame my partner and hack our precinct?”

The dark figure responded, “You know damn well many of your fellow officers, including Bullock here, are complicit. You can either work with me to claw your way out or you can let yourself get buried by the filth. To start you can tell me where I can find Zsasz.”

Gordon stepped back and lowered his sidearm. The two stood in silence as he contemplated the creature’s offer. “One of our own, a marksman for SWAT. He’s a regular where Zsasz does most of his work, a place called 'Russo's'. The bar offers cheap alcohol whenever he's 'practising', so that the noise is drowned out.”

“You know your partner is rotten. So when they turn on him, I’ll come in and bail him out. Then your partner will be on the level too, or at least he won’t give us any trouble. I could use another cop on our side.” The creature stepped away from the downed officer and toward an open window.

Gordon turned away from the monster. Incredulously, he asked, “Wait, you're serious? Look, Bullock's an a-grade asshole, but framing him into joining-” he turned to face the monster again but he had disappeared.

  * David Fox is a combination of David 'Prodigy' Alleyne and Tim Fox from Detective Comics.
  * 'Patch' Malone: 'Patch', an alter-ego of Wolverine's and Matches Malone, an alter-ego of Bruce Wayne's.
  * 'Jigsaw' Zsasz: Victor Zsasz and Billy 'Jigsaw' Russo
  * Gordon Stacey: Jim Gordon and George Stacey
  * Clark Bullock: An unknown Marvel character and Harvey Bullock
  * Yortham: Gotham and New York



# Chapter 3 – A Precision Strike

  
  


“Look, I can still make the shot no matter how much of your fat head you put in the way,” one patron advised another, aiming his dart. His ‘friend’ moved, he then took his shot, hitting the exact centre of the dartboard. He cut through the crowd that cluttered the tavern to take a second shot at the board from an angle. “See, these darts are much too thick for me to take another shot straight on.”

“You'll never make another, Dex. Pay up,” Another patron demanded. Dex flicked another dart, sticking into the board and touching the point of the first one. He looked over at the patron who doubted him and gave him a smug look. He then moved to face the board from another angle, readying a third dart. As he took aim, darkness suddenly enveloped the bar.

Something forced open the tavern's door. The sound of the door hitting one of the patrons was deafeningly loud, piercing the momentary silence. The sound of muffled yelling could be heard under everyone's feet. The lights came on, startling everyone as a black monster had appeared in the center of the room.

“Someone down there isn't having a good time. I'm gonna pick him up, drive him home.” The Logan growled, with a demonic resonance. He calmly approached the door at the rear end of the room, his path blocked by men wielding pool cues and knives. “Anyone want out?” the entrance door exploded into splinters causing several patrons to flinch, Logan calmly continued, “then out you go, now.” A dozen patrons fled, but those blocking his way hadn't moved. Dex slowly approached a pool table as the standoff continued. He could see silver blades sliding out from between the Logan's knuckles. Dex grabbed a ball from the pool table while sizing up the intruder. With one swift motion he pelted the cue ball at the caped marauder, who flicked his arm, cutting the ball in quarters. The crowd then started attacking him, swinging their cues and blades at him. He seemed impervious to all of their strikes, slicing the patron's weapons along with their arms, leaving them with gashes. Dex flicked the dart still in his hand at the Logan, piercing his cheek. Logan hastily pulled the dart out, exchanging his flurry of strikes for charging through the men and aiming for the door. As he burst through, he saw a man with a scarred face holding a bloody knife. The scar-faced man bolted through another door in the room, one that lead outside. The clawed man tossed a small object behind him, which burst into bright light. He darted out through the door he exploded.

Now outside, he leapt into his vehicle as several motorcycles came zooming out from Russo's side alley. The tank-like vehicle skidded off to a start in pursuit. It approached the nearest bike, nudging the rear wheel. In a panic, the driver wrenched it into a turn off the road, causing it to fall on its side and grind along the road, along with him. Logan sped up to get closer to the scarred man, who he recognised as Zsasz while the other bikers disappeared down other streets. Billy Zsasz turned into a parking structure, with Logan following closely. Try as he might, Billy couldn't shake him as every corner he turned, his pursuer turned as nimbly, barely slowing down. Logan fired a grappling hook at the back of Billy's motorcycle. Logan braked, sending Billy flying off his bike and face first into the rear windshield of a car. Logan accelerated again, mowing over the bike.

Logan pulled Zsasz's head out of the glass and carried him to sit on the edge of the complex. Then he padded him down, feeling something in Zsasz's shirt pocket, from which he pulled out a bloody and disembodied toe.

“Peanuts at the bar not salty enough?” Logan growled, snidely. Billy tried to slap him weakly but Logan grabbed his hand, noticing a ring on it with a tiny needle protruding from it. Logan yanked it off his callused finger.

“What's this?” Logan inquired, to no response. He then pricked Zsasz with it. The next moment the two heard a car pull up and saw the distinct glow of red and blue lights around them. Logan placed the ring into a pouch on his utility belt and tapped at the screen on his wrist, causing black smoke to pour out of his vehicle.

“Dammit, do you have any idea what that's going to do to me?” Zsasz pleaded, his face twitching.

“No, it's why I pricked you. Care to explain?” Logan taunted. Zsasz opened his mouth but instead of words, a groan of pain gurgled out. Zsasz began to frantically claw at his own face.

“ _ **Ghuaar**_ , I can't go through this again. KILL ME!,” he pleaded, his clawing intensified. The point where Logan pricked him bled. Logan held him over the edge and dropped him, watching as he crashed into a pile of garbage bags. Logan rushed to his vehicle and sped off, crashing through a concrete barrier and landing into the street.

Logan scoured his computer, noting that he now had access to Yortham's police. He searched Clark Bullock's name, noting that the latest reference to him in an email that mentioned escorting him to an alley downtown. Logan shifted his course to there.

“1-West-13, requesting whereabouts of Officer Bullock,” Logan broadcast.

“Officer Bullock is being taken in 1-West-7, that's all you need to know,” a voice responded.

“That's all I need to know,” Logan muttered to himself, looking up the vehicle on GPS.

“Look, I don't know who tried to hack into the us but it wasn't me, I swear,” Clark Bullock protested. He was sitting in a van surrounded by men armed and covered in armour.

“The Big Question was pretty clear in his orders; 'Wearing white and blue over a belly yellow. Unleashed a can of worms, did this fellow', and you're responsible for the mother of all security breaches.” One faceless man lectured. Bullock felt the van come to a stop and then reverse. The doors opened up to an alley a lone manhole at the dead end. The officers pushed Bullock out and towards the sewer opening while he continued to plead.

“It's not my fault, anyone could've used my computer,” Bullock continued, as one officer lifted the sever lid off. “Wait, you're going to throw me down there!?.”

“Yeah, and if you come back out, we'll shoot you.” An officer threatened.

The van the group arrived in lifted off its wheels and tilted to the side, as a vehicle appeared from underneath it. Something launched from the vehicle's cockpit and began attacking the armoured police. In seconds they were all taken down, with the figure turning towards Bullock. Bullock impulsively tried to flee but something dug into his back. Next thing he knew, he was being pulled backwards and down the manhole. As he fell, the figure caught him and dropped him onto the ground.

“Please don't kill me! I didn't hack the police station, I wouldn't know how.” Bullock implored.

“I know…. **I** did. Now you'll see what's in store for people who make the wrong enemies here.” Logan whispered. A deep gurgling emanated from down the tunnel, silencing the officer. Logan turned to face it, deploying his claws on one hand and placing a ring on his other. Technology within his cowl enabled him to see what was coming; a large scaly monster much taller than either of the people it approached. It lunged toward them, with Logan responding by slicing open its legs. He then jammed the needle of the ring into one of the wounds he made. He retracted his claws and seized the scaly monstrosity's tail, holding it back from Bullock. He threw some pellets on the ground which exploded into sustained light, showing the humanoid crocodile's appearance to Bullock. The creature knelt down, grasping its leg and letting out a guttural roar. Eventually, the creature grew quiet. As it did, Logan grabbed it by its leg and began dragging it.

“W-what the hell is that thing? Is it dead?” Bullock stammered.

“I wouldn't know either of those things,” Logan replied, frankly, “Probably a Metamutant. I wish he was still awake to answer some questions, but I can still make use of him, or it. There's an outlet nearby.”

“You're going to carry him there? You're on your own.”

“You're going to meet me at the outlet. Do something worthwhile and show this city a piece of the ugliness underneath, or be swept up yourself. That's not a threat it's a prediction.”

Bullock hesitated before nodding in compliance.

…

Some time later, Logan had finished dragging the scaly creature to the outlet before disappearing back into it. Leaving Bullock standing next to it. Above him he could see a helicopter shining a spotlight on him and soon after, he was surrounded by police vehicles. From one of the cars stepped out Gordon who greeted Bullock with a statement.

“That MetaMutant released a statement, he took the blame for the hack and told us to meet you here. Also, that bird up there, not ours. Smile, Bullock, you're on the news, probably national news.”

Bullock looked back up, mouth open and dumbfounded.

Midday the next day. Pennyjar knocked on Logan's bedroom door to bring him breakfast and lunch on a tray. As he entered he could see Logan stirring, turning to look at him with red eyes. He placed Logan's food on his bed and sat down on it himself. Logan drained the cup of coffee and began voraciously feasting on the meal. The butler could hardly hide his astonishment as Logan finished the two meal's worth in a minute. Logan then turned to him and asked.“Something wrong, consider me awake now.”

“Well,” Pennyworth hesitated, “I've heard some rather unkind rumours about what you were up to last night. Starting a bar brawl, chasing and brutalising one of the patrons and then assaulting several officers.”

“All true,” Logan admitted, casually before he elaborated, “Billy Zsasz was torturing a man in Russo's basement, he's the guy who chucked me in the sewers weeks ago. He had a ring with a needle on it, both of the people I pricked it with both started screaming. It must've been what they used on me then.”

“Wait, **two** people? Who was the other?” Pennyjar demanded.

“Y'know that crocodile man Bullock was seen with? That thing chased me while I was reeling from that pain ring. I think that creature has been disposing of bodies for god-knows-who, so I figured I'd show it to the citizens, get them asking questions. Also, making Bullock look like a hero should be enough for him to keep his job. Those officers I attacked were trying to feed him to that thing.”

Pennyjar considered Logan's explanation for a minute before looking at Logan and saying. “Look, I won't sit idly by while you go out every night brutalising people, even terrible ones. If you're committed to making Yortham better, then try other avenues of change.”

“Hours before I met you, I was woken up form my first night sleeping in the streets, literally, by a group of thugs. I was only asleep on the streets because I was put in the most brilliant pain I've ever been in, by Jigsaw. I was running from a human crocodile. Last night at least one cop was having a 'pint with the lads' while Jigsaw was taking toes right underneath him. Finally, I had another cop give me access to Yortham police's computers, you know how I did that? I didn't open a digital back door, I just accessed one that was already in there. Now If you don't mind, I'm going to see David Fox,” Logan got out of bed and marched out of the room.

…

“The results on the ring have come back,” David began, “Its the barbs of an Australian plant. These barbs are said to cause the most painful reactions known to man. Painful to the point of fatality. Jesus, if someone like ‘Jigsaw’ Zsasz is carrying this then who knows who else has this.”

“That’s why I’m out there,” Logan said.

“I think you could use some help. If you die then it won’t be long until I’m cuffed,” David said.

“I don’t have to worry about dying, bub” Logan said as he looked around the busy floor. “Lets take this to your office.”

The two moved into the seclusion of David’s desk. Logan closed the blinds leaving them in total privacy.

“Want to clarify the ‘not dying’ thing?” David asked.

Logan held out his left hand and clenched his right, a blade extended from his knuckle. He cut a large gash in the palm of his hand. Then he took a tissue out of a box on David’s desk and covered the wound. “I heal,” he simply said.

“You’re a MetaMutant?

“Yup.” He removed the tissue and buried it in the nearby waste basket. “I need you here. You’re already implicated in my crimes, it’d be a bad idea if-”

“No. I mean, I’m one too. I wasn’t the brightest kid in my early years but in middle school I was suddenly top of the class. But I kept getting dumb again over the holidays until I took up jobs. I figured out that as long as I stayed around people with know-how, I’d keep it in my head,” David said.

“Ah, all the more reason for you to stay here with the pencil-necks,” Logan said.

“Yeah, thought a job with Wayne Inc would be a dream come true, turned out to be a brain-dead end until you came along.”

“I see, you might be the right person to ask then; some cops tried to kill our city’s new hero Clark Bullock. They said they were working for ‘The Big Question’, any clue who that is?” Logan asked.

“Sure, guy runs a micro-blog. Keeps putting out cryptic messages, most of which rhyme.” David sat down at his desk and manned his computer. A few moments later he had brought up a webpage of a man’s large head, it was painted white except for the green question mark painted at the edges. There were several ‘micro’ posts of poems. The most recent of which read:

_There's a package, arriving by sea._

_It is your responsibility_

_With the sharpest eye_

_And a trigger spry_

_Not to disappoint me_

  
  


“If these are orders then why is he making them on a publically-viewable site?” David asked.

“Yortham’s cops aren’t going to go after him, there’s not a lawyer brave enough to call for an investigation either,” Logan said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” David said. He brought up a new browser window and searched ‘Rose Slade Murdock’, bringing up images and news articles of a woman with long black hair draped over one eye. “Girl’s had a shitty start to life, got blinded by a chemical spill as a child. The truck shouldn’t have been driving through her neighbourhood. Despite her disability she ‘rose’, pun intended, to become one of Yortham’s finest MMA fighters. Not female fighters, fighters in general, this was while she was still a teenager. They called her ‘Three-B’; the ‘Bald Blind Boxer’.”

“I’d hate to burst your bubble but she has hair,” Logan said.

“It’s a wig,” David retorted, “She tried to become a soldier or a cop but couldn’t despite both saying she did exceptionally for someone without sight.”

“Now she’s a lawyer? Strange turn of career.”

“Yeah, retired from fist-fighting before she hit twenty and made her courtroom debut at twenty-six, so it was a slow-going shift.”

“Odds are she’s crooked, but that could just be my reasonable cynicism at play,” Logan said.

“Well, she’d be a shoo-in for District Attourney if her opponents hadn’t out-raised her thousands-fold.”

“I see,” Logan said, quietly.

“Lets focus on the riddle for the moment, ‘arriving by sea’ is pretty obvious, it means the docks. I could be wrong though,” David said.

“No, I got smuggled directly here several years ago,” Logan said, “no doubt the docks are compromised. The last three lines refer to someone in particular.” He took out his smartphone and tapped away on it, “I think I know who.” He showed David a picture of a man in a steel helmet and mask, a target was emblazoned on the forehead and it had one glass eye.

“Who’s that?”

“One of Yortham’s most wanted; an assassin known only as ‘Deadeye’. Says here he has phenomenal accuracy and a trademark of shooting out a target’s eye.”

“Yeah, sounds like what happened to Murdock years ago. She defended a man who was framed for a smuggling operation run out of the docks and got shot at the stairs. Her client died but she survived with one less eye.”

“Bet the sniper felt stupid, shooting out her most useless organ. She’s winning me over already,” Logan said.

…

Logan, dressed in his best suit, sat alone at a table in a busy cafe on the ground floor of his corporate headquaters. He didn’t have long to wait when a woman in a red and black suit sat opposite him. She wore a pair of circular sunglasses with her hair over one lens, a fringe covered her forehead. Her hole outfit, gloves, shoes, and suit spoke clearly of concealment to Logan.

“So, ‘Slade’ huh? Daddy really hoping for a boy?” Logan said.

“My father died trying to fight for custody of me. He was a boxer, a prizefighter, but I’m sure you know that already. What you wouldn’t have read is that I wanted to live with him,” she said.

“I know your mother died in the accident that blinded you. Why didn’t they hand you over?” Logan asked.

“Because they wanted to keep sticking needles in me. They kept me in hospital for much longer than they needed to.”

“Records show you had sensory processing issues after the accident.”

“I also had issues with confinement. One early morning I took off, I found a fitness center that taught boxing and insisted on joining. By the time the nursing staff found me I’d made quite an impression on my teacher, not least of which being he was also blind.”

“Yeah, William Stick or ‘Winterstick’. I read he adopted you when your biological father died,” Logan said. He shuffled in his seat and leaned closer to her, “Tell me, what are your thoughts about your father’s death?”

“This is getting personal very quickly,” an uncomfortable Rose said.

“In this city, there are few true accidents. Your encounter with the chemical truck would be enough misfortune for a child, but then that’s not the end of it.”

“Do you think my father was murdered?” Rose asked.

“Do you?” he asked. “I’ve seen your competition for the DA’s office. I could raise you from ‘lame duck’ to ‘dark horse’, but only if I’m sure you’re committed to cleaning house.”

“Define ‘cleaning house’,” Rose asked, skeptically.

“We both know there’s two sets of laws, the one decided in courtrooms by judges and juries, and then there’s the one decided by Yortham’s assassins, like ‘Deadeye’. This ‘dark law’ of Yortham’s does no favours for the common people, its an evil that must be fought and with all conviction. I will only put my money behind such a person.”

“You still haven’t told me the catch,” Rose said.

“MetaMutants aren’t treated kindly, especially here. That sort of subjugation ends in violence, war. When the war starts, when the Metas fight back, I want you on their side, my side,” Logan said.

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Have you heard anything about the docks recently?” Logan asked.

…

Logan, in costume, stood on a crane overlooking the shipping port. The facilities were poorly lit but despite this they were a-flurry of activity. Dozens of men, most of which were armed, watched over the shifting of one container from the ship to the towers of containers on dry land. He scanned it and then tossed a small disc, which soared over the docks and attached itself to the box.

On the catwalk of one tower far from the center of activity, Logan saw a man with a long rifle, Deadeye in his distinct helmet. Logan dove off and as he did he brushed his cape with his glove, the fabric expanded and formed wings. He drifted over to where the sniper lay watch.

Deadeye’s head suddenly twisted to face him. He extended his arm towards Wayne and fired a gun mounted on his wrist, the shot hit the lens covering Logan’s eye. Deadeye then fled into the tower as Logan landed awkwardly on the catwalk.

Logan got back to his feet and entered the top of the tower. He took a canister from his belt and tossed it down the stairs inside, it exploded and filled the stairway with thick smoke. He then leapt of the tower’s catwalk and dropped, his decent slowed by his open cape. He landed on one of the shipping containers and crouched, lying in wait for Deadeye to emerge.

The assassin appeared, in an instant he spotted Logan despite his attempt to conceal himself and swung his rifle to aim at him. Logan tossed another cannister at him but was hit in the head by a shot from Deadeye. The sniper then, in a few quick movements, raised his gun to hold it in one arm while using the gun mounted on his free arm to shoot Logan’s projectile form the air.

As it exploded into smoke he ran. Logan pursued Deadeye through the piles of containers, the former gliding from the top of one to the next or grapelling from a lower tower to the top of a higher tower, while the latter ducked and weaved between the towers.

Deadeye stopped and pressed his back against one of the large metal boxes. Slowly and quietly, he slid the bolt back on his rifle and readied another shot. From one end a canister, spewing smoke, rolled into view, he looked down the other end to see the same thing. He heard a loud tap. On his rifle’s magazine he saw a spike embedded in it. He pointed the gun down the direction the back of the spike pointed and fired, then dropped it and fired several more shots. He heard a rattle behind him. He turned to see a black tank barrelling down. It hit him and he rolled along the top.

Logan leapt atop it and entered its cockpit. He sped off, through other towers of containers and onto the rails that the container cranes ran along. He could see an armed mob heading after him, behind which he could see one truck with a container being loaded on it. He took off towards the mob which opened fire on him, peppering his vehicle with bullets but doing no harm. Logan fired the afterburner and raised several flaps, which allowed his car to jump and soar over the group. He landed, spun around, and came to a stop between the mob and the truck. He fired a hook into one of the towers of containers. The tyres squealed as they spun backwards, spewing smoke. The tower leaned. The mob scattered, a few members yelled out in fear as the containers came toppling over onto the rails. The hook detached and Logan’s car spun around again. Logan had lost the truck.

Elsewhere, the truck zoomed down Yortham’s quiet side roads, smashing aside the smaller cars that were unfortunate enough to meet with it. Until, on one straight road, it came across Logan’s armoured car. Curved plates extended and covered its wheels and front. It then drove head-first toward the truck. The driver, incensed, accelerated the truck. The driver clenched the wheel tightly, staring down the other car. Logan braced himself as he fired the afterburner. He clenched his teeth as the truck filled his view.

Logan’s car cut under the truck, lifting it and sending it tumbling onto its side and scraping to a halt. Logan spun his car and leapt out. He threw a couple of bombs at the back of the truck and blasted its doors open. He tore through the boxes, stepping over armed guards inside until he uncovered a safe. He pressed his head against it and worked its wheel briskly until he heard several distinct clicking sounds. He then fired his vehicles hook, which attached magnetically to the back of the safe. He stepped out of the truck and pulled the safe out, sending its contents, dozens of smaller boxes, onto the streets. He entered his car and dragged the safe through a few streets before leaving it and vanishing into the night.

  * Deadeye/Floyd Poindexter is a combination of Floyd Lawton aka Bullseye and Deadshot, alias Benjamin Poindexter
  * Rose Slade Murdock: Rose and Slade Wilson aka Deathstroke the Terminator, and Matthew 'Daredevil' Murdock
  * Winterstick: Marvel's 'Stick' and DC's William Wintergreen.



# Chapter 4 – Creatures of the Night

Logan dumped a seventh box in David’s office, “You hired a geneticist, right?"

“Yes, why?” David replied.

“Our friend in Yortham PD sent me these boxes relating to a cold case. These are the research notes of a Kirk Sallis, I skimmed his notes and it looks like he was searching for a genetic solution to deafness. Seems the powers that be pushed him to research other methods. There are several hard drives in with this mess too, so keep me informed of what you and your people find.”

“Sounds like you didn’t get this entirely legitimately. I guess I’ll have to print out some NDAs, then.”

Logan left. Soon afterwards Rose ambushed him in the hallway. “I heard about what happened at the docks. Floyd Poindexter’s in hospital along with three others.”

Feigning ignorance, Logan asked, “Oh, what happened, and how did you get in here?”

Rose sighed, “I have my ways of getting where I want to be. As for your other question, someone hit a truck, literally. They then dragged a safe full of hazardous material out of it and through the streets.”

“Hazardous how?”

“They won’t say.”

“The authorities won’t, but word on the street is that its a chemical that can cause critical pain with just a prick. You didn’t hear that from me though.” Logan winked.

“Look, even if I wanted to back out from our deal I can’t. I just got sent these pictures,” Rose handed him several papers. A few depicted a black bat-like creature gliding into Yortham’s sea-port while a few others showed Rose and Logan sitting together at the cafe. “I won’t ask what you know of that bat-thing, but don’t think of me as an idiot.”

“Did these pictures have an address?”

“Yes, a reporter called Kurt Ryder.”

…

Floyd lay on a hospital bed, in traction when ‘Patch’ Malone entered.

“Hello, old friend,” Malone said.

“Oh please, a few poker games doesn’t make us friends,” Floyd spat. “How’d you get past the cops, anyway?”

“You’re in no position to ask questions.” Logan walked up to his side and placed his hand on Floyd’s squeezing it firmly.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

“Then answer me some questions, lets start with ‘the Big One’; who is ‘the Big Question’?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

Logan took out a ring with a needle embedded on it, “I hear morphine does nothing to dull the pain this inflicts.

Floyd flinched, then thrashed but let out a muffled and pained groan, “I really don’t fucking know, okay!? Even if I did, I’d end up thrown to the crocodile or that bat-monster.”

“Oh, you might have some useful info after all. What do you know of the crocodile?”

“He was a geneticist, one of many working in Yortham. I don’t know the specifics of his research but he wanted to crack the secret of rapid healing and even immortality but he was also taking money to find out how to ‘cure’ MetaMutants.”

“Only problem there is that ‘Metas’ aren’t a disease,” Logan said, disgusted.

“Sure thing, buddy. We both know they’re a threat to society, the cure’s not for their benefit but ours.”

“Yours, not ours. So what happened?”

“That money he was getting to cure the mutts? He was funnelling it into his other research. I was brought out to kill him but he decided to make himself his last guinea pig. After a few dozen SWAT died by his scaly hands he retreated into the sewers. The powers that be made him an offer; we feed him inconvenient people so long as he never surfaces again.”

“That didn’t work out well, did it?”

“No, and that fucking chickenshit Bullock winds up looking like a hero. We know he didn’t stop the Doc Croc.”

“Doc Croc? Amusing name, so what did you do with him?”

“All I know is that Amalgamated Justice has him now, they’re more qualified to deal with freaks than anyone else. Which is fine by me.”

“Would I be right in guessing that Waylon wasn’t the only doctor assigned to the so-called cure?” Logan asked.

“I’ll tell you anything if you never touch me or hurt me, deal?”

Logan let go of Floyd’s hand. “Kirk Sallis, another geneticist, know him?”

“Oh fuckin’ hell, yeah I know him. Refused our money so I fired a gun next to his wife’s ear. Not long afterwards we get word of a bat-freak flying around the city. Turns out he finished his wife off for us when he mutated himself. I had to bring my fifty-calibre but we got him, or so I thought.”

“So you thought?”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that. Me and a few police buddies truck his body to the swamp west of the city, one guy is whining about how ‘uneasy’ he feels covering this shit up but he helps us bury the guy anyway. Then he puts spits the dummy and says he won’t do this work again. Right he was, we buried him with Sallis. While we’re driving back we get attacked by some flying sludge monster. It wrecks our truck and almost kills us all when I manage to set the truck on fire. The monster catches alight and burns to a crisp.”

Logan gave a small nod and left, to Floyd’s relief.

…

That night, Logan, in full costume, was driving his vehicle out of Yortham’s city and in the meantime he was speaking with David.

“We’ve gone through the notes and we found heavily encrypted correspondence between Waylon and Kirk. He gave Kirk some information about the mechanisms for rapid cell regeneration. Kirk thought that this could help speed along the effects of his gene therapies,” David said.

“That would explain how the two mutated so dramatically. Floyd told me he buried two bodies the day he buried Kirk. I wonder if the fresh tissue had something to do with what brought Sallis back to life.”

“Stranger things have happened,” David said.

Soon, Logan had arrived at the marshlands. He tossed a camera drone into the air which took flight. It was not long before he discovered a skeleton, but not the one he was after. The discovery of more bones disheartened him. He continued searching until he found a human and mutated bones buried together. He took out an IV and inserted the needle end into his arm, then hung the empty blood bag on his thigh, the bag filled with his blood. Once the bag filled, he cut an opening in it and tossed it into the muddy pond in front of him.

He heard a rustling in the trees nearby. As he waited for the bag to fill he fiddled with his gauntlet. His vehicle fired a shot that exploded into gas in the trees. A man fell to the foot of the tree. The lights on his vehicle lit up the swamps.

Logan examined the man; green and yellow skinned with wild, loose green hair. He wore little, only a vest and a small pair of pants. As he climbed to his feet he coughed and spluttered. Logan helped him up and then stuck a needle in his arm, injecting him with the fluid within.

“Kurt Ryder, a literal yellow journalist. I’m guessing you’re a MetaMutant.” Logan examined him further, the man only had two fingers and a thumb on each hand, pointed elf-like ears and a pointed tail like the devil. His body blurred and smoke drifted off it.

Kurt let out a delirious moan, then said, “I- I can’t-”

“Teleport? The police have a file on you, and I’m guessing the powers that be have some considerable leverage. Am I right?” Logan asked.

“I get all ze best footage. No camera gets as close as mine does, nor as quickly,” Kurt smiled as he spoke with a hint of a German accent. He stared at Logan with his completely yellow eyes. He then looked behind him and his smile flipped. He tried to crawl away but Logan grabbed his shoulder and shoved him against the tree.

“So you’re a lowly nightcrawler, should I let you drown or-” Logan looked behind him.

A creature mad of swampy plants lumbered out of the murky water. It unfurled large bat-like wings.

“It’s going to kill us!” Kurt shrieked.

“Is it?” Logan turned to face Kurt. “Know who this guy was? A genetic researcher who was offered money to find a cure for MetaMutants. Does that sit well with you?”

“I’m just trying to keep my head above water.”

“Sounds like you’re having a hell of a time with your powers, now imagine your career without them.”

“I imagine it vould be easier,” Kurt said.

“Naivete like that will get you killed.”

“Like I feel safe here, with this bat-man and bat… uh, thing,” Kurt said.

“We’re cutting the Gordian knot, prying the foot off our throats no matter how many toes we have to sever. Can I trust you? At least enough to stay out of my way? If I can’t, I **will** find you,” Logan let of of his shoulder. Kurt ran off, vanishing behind the trees.

Logan turned to face the ‘bat-thing’, “Sallis, I presume.”

“I do not know this ‘Sallis’ you speak of,” the bat-thing said.

“You used to be a researcher, then a bat monster, don’t you remember?”

“I remember nothing.”

Logan checked the images his drone sent him, the mutated skeleton still lay below the muddy waters, and the bat-thing had a skeleton made of wood. “I see,” he muttered to himself.

“Fear. I smelled fear on that man,” the bat-thing said.

“What about me?” Logan asked

“I smell metal, and blood.”

“I suspect you have amnesia,” Logan offered him a small disc shaped object, “This is a tracking device. I can also keep a drone near you so we can talk to each other. Call me when you remember something, in the meantime try to keep out of sight. I’ll clear Yortham’s skies for you.”

Logan drove off, as he headed back to Yortham he received a call from Jarvis, “Master Logan, I’ve received distressing news. I need to speak to you in-person.”

“What about?”

“In-person,” the butler insisted.

Logan parked his vehicle in the cavern under the manor. There, he met with Jarvis, who asked him to take his helmet off.

“Alright Pennyjar, out with it,” Logan said.

“Master Logan, I’ve received disturbing news. A gunman opened fire in ‘Russo’s’, reports were that they were heavily armoured.”

“You think it was me? I don’t use guns, bub. Even the one on this thing,” he gestured to his vehicle, “uses rubber bullets.”

“Please promise me that you won’t become just another murderer out there on the streets,” Jarvis said, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“I don’t plan to have the streets run red, bub.”

Logan and Jarvis headed to the manor’s roof. Jarvis had a glass of while while Logan had a can of beer.

“Not into wine?” Jarvis asked.

“Nah, tastes like crap, to me anyway. No offence.”

“None taken, sir. I feel a little selfish, curating all this wine just for myself. You should invite a few guests over, have a party. I promise I’ll do the heavy lifting.”

“Yeah, probably a bit boring around here. Y’know, it could do Rose some good to rub shoulders with the upper classes.”

“Rose? Dare I hope that you’ll bring home someone to make a proper man of you?” Jarvis asked, sardonic but hopeful.

“She’s running for DA, she’s the one I met with not long ago. I think she’s on the level, mainly because of her lack of profile.”

  * Kirk Sallis: Robert Kirkland 'Kirk' Lanstrom aka Man-Bat, Alec Holland 'Swamp Thing', Theodore 'Ted' Sallis aka Man-Thing
  * Kurt Ryder: Kurt 'Nightcrawler' Wagner, Jack 'Creeper' Ryder



#  **Chapter 5 – She Who Dares, Wins**

  
  


Logan met Rose on the roof of his manor. The helicopter that transported her there took off. Once the two could hear themselves think they began to talk.

“Is this smart, Logan?” Rose asked.

“You need to win over the silver spoons before you have a chance to win the election,” Logan said as he linked arms with her. “Wow, you still work out?” he asked her, feeling the hard muscles under her suit. He could also smell a hint of gunpowder on her.

“A sharp mind needs a strong body, right?” Rose said.

The pair spotted Jarvis approaching.

“Ms Murdock, I presume. A suit is an unusual choice of attire for a lady, but it looks marvellous on you.”

“Thank you, this gentleman must be Jarvis.”

“Right you are. The party is down this way.”

Jarvis escorted the two to the lobby, through crowds of expensively dressed men and women along with the catering staff. Rose took a glass of wine from one of the servants and downed it in one gulp. She shuddered and returned the glass.

“Are you sure you’re blind?” Logan asked.

“Legally.”

The three stood on the balcony above the lobby. Jarvis took a glass and a spoon and tapped the latter against the former. The rabble quickly died down.

“Ms Murdock wishes to say a few words.”

Logan watched as Rose took Jarvis’ place.

“My name is Rose Slade Murdock, I was once the Bald Blind Boxer, now I’m the Bald Blind Barrister, I am still about kicking ass and taking names. Not long ago we all saw for ourselves the sort of monsters that live in the dark corners of our beloved city. What’s protecting us from creatures like that? The answer isn’t ‘nothing’ which is the bad news, that which is would set it upon us with just the barest prompting. The system of law was made to protect us and prevent that but we know these people who rule us from the dark have only their own law. My rivals have their heads buried in sand and are content to capitulate to the mob, to avoid the fights it’s their job to fight. I, however, do not avoid the fights that need to be fought, this I promise you.”

The speech was met with silence, until Logan stood next to her. With a teeth-bearing smile he said, “See? This is what Yortham needs, a woman without fear!”

The partygoers slowly broke out into applause.

The three mingled with the crowds. Rose met with one of the partygoers, a woman.

“Veronica Nefaria-Cale. Your speech was quite interesting, harkening back to your boxer days.”

“Is that your idea of a compliment?” Rose said.

“I mean, you need more grace. Embrace your feminine side.”

“I didn’t get where I am today with the gloves on.”

Logan was about to interrupt them when he himself was disturbed by a loud whining noise. The noise did not seem to bother anyone else aside from Rose. He quickly headed away from the crowd and towards the source. In one of the cordoned-off rooms he found it, an ancient man in a black and shimmering white cloak.

“Well I’ll be… Jimmy Wayne,” he said, elated.

“I think you have the wrong Wayne. Who are you?” Logan asked, suspicious.

“You’ll remember, but for now call me ‘Moonwing’. This isn’t a simple catch-up visit, your guests are in danger. Some of your catering staff are on the roof, they’re messing with the vents to pump a psychotropic hallucinogen. So suit up and get those claws out.”

“Uh, you go on ahead,” Logan said, tersely, before he left the room.

He rushed to the cavern under the manor and suited up, meanwhile he set his vehicle to remotely leave and show up at his front door.

On the rooftop, several people dressed as catering staff were modifying the end of a ventilation shaft along with adding a tank of gas to the outlet. The fan of the outlet began to rotate to draw in air but soon ground to a halt. A crescent-shaped piece of metal pierced the tank allowing its contents to mix with the air.

“Oh shit,” one of the fake caterers said as the group rushed to mask their faces. Another spotted a cloaked monster with glowing white eyes and a figure cloaked in glowing white nearby, both wore masks over their mouths. He quickly pulled out a pistol fitted with a suppressor but the gun was knocked out of his hands. The pair dashed over to the party saboteurs. As they traded blows the pair snatched the masks off their faces. Logan extended his claws and slashed the tank in half, covering the crowd in the gas.

Soon the pair had the group subdued.

One of the group fell on his back, shoved by the clawed monster who then knelled on his chest. Before their eyes the monster changed into something resembling a gargoyle.

“Talk, tell me who sent you,” the monster demanded.

“W-we don’t know. We were just given a job and a few tanks.”

“Tell me where the tanks came from.”

“Arkham Tower.”

Logan looked over at the city. One building stood taller and wider than any other, that building was Arkham Tower.

“That place is a darned fortress,” Moonwing said.

One of the saboteurs ran for the edge, gun drawn. Logan followed him full pelt but the gunman had already reached the edge. Logan drew his grapnel gun and fired it, the hook dug into their leg as the leapt over. When the cable tightened, it slipped from Logan’s grip. The gadget caught itself on the ledge briefly before tumbling over.

Logan leapt over the edge. As he fell he saw the gunman hobble through the door. Logan landed and grabbed the trigger end of his grapnel, but the gunman had already rushed inside and taken one of the guests hostage. The rest kept their distance from the gunman as he pressed his gun against his captive’s head. “Get this hook off my fucking leg!”

Logan entered the party, staring down the gunman. “Do you want to tell these people or shall I?”

“Just let it go!”

Logan addressed the crowd, “This man was about to gas you, and he should watch his back.”

The gunman turned. Rose grabbed his shoulder and gun while Logan pulled the thread. The hostage fled as the gunman fell. Rose pried the gun from his grasp and shoved his head to the floor, knocking him out cold. The lights flickered and Logan vanished. Rose took the magazine out, ejected the chambered round and took the slide off before dropping the pieces on the floor. The partygoes broke out in applause, to Rose’s heartening suprise.

Meanwhile, Logan made his escape speeding down a Yortham wood rode. A large creature dropped down onto his car. Logan recognised the creature; Doc Croc. The Doc dug his clawed, scaly hands and ripped the ‘cockpit’ cover off, then pulled Logan out and tossed him to the roadside.

“You made me look like a turd that any old pig could could beat down. For that I’m gonna rip your fuckin’ heart out through your asshole,” the croc said.

Logan’s vehicle deployed its twin grenade launchers and fired a pair of shots at the lizard creature. They exploded and engulfed him in gas. The croc spluttered and charged for Logan. Logan deployed his claws, running at the monster. He leapt to the side at the last moment and slashed at the Doc’s leg. The croc clenched its jaw, letting out a pained grunt. It then opened back up and tried to bite at him. Logan shoved an arm into its mouth. It bit down hard, penetrating his armour and skin until it reached bone. Logan used his free arm to stab into the croc’s shoulder and chest several times. He then shoved his leg into the lizard’s other shoulder while extending his claws to scrape at the inside of his mouth. The creature spat him out, dropping him on to his back, and then slashed at him.

“It’s gonna take more than that to stop me!” the croc crowed.

A slimy, plant-like claw gripped the croc’s shoulder. The fluid it secreted burned its leathery flesh. The croc turned around to slash at the other creature, taking a chunk of its face. It slashed back, scarring the crocodile. Logan leapt onto Doc Croc’s back and dug his claws into its spine. Doc Croc fell allowing Logan to see his saviour; the Bat-thing.

“Thanks, bub,” Logan said.

Back in the cavern under the manor, the Bat-thing, Logan, Pennyjar and Moonwing met..

“I think Rose’s moment of heroism has won her some support,” Pennyjar said.

“She also smelled of gunpowder, I’ll have Gordon check for any gun licenses registered in her name,” Logan said.

“Having doubts about your sponsorship, Master Logan?”

“I can’t afford to. I suppose you’re wondering about my two friends,” Logan said.

“I read what was apparently your memoirs from the 40’s and 50’s. You wrote of a young man, a Marc Grayson, who insisted on dressing up in white and going by the alias ‘Moonwing’. The question is, how are you alive to this day, Master Grayson?”

“I am he,” Moonwing said, he withdrew his hood to reveal a face half-covered in machinery. “Surely you read about my, uh, hardware, right? They kept me alive for all these decades.”

“You know who was behind the gas attack?” Logan asked.

“No-one’s curious about the walking quagmire sitting in with us?” Pennyjar asked.

“I want Grayson’s answer, first.”

“I knew about some of the higher-ups, but not where they were operating from. Our perp confirmed what I suspected, that it was Arkham Tower. As for who? Ebenezer Crane, a neurologist and chemist.”

“That settles it, I’m putting as many eyes and ears on that Tower as I can muster,” Logan said as he headed for his computer. “As for our other guest, it’s Kirk Sallis. He’s a geneticist that they tried to ice, but all the mutations he inflicted on himself left him unable to truly die. Fresh tissue or blood can revive him where they tried to sink him, in the swamps west of the city.”

“If you say so,” the Bat-thing said, “I will take my leave now, perhaps I can survey the tower for you, claw-man.”

“Thank you. Meanwhile I’ll go look up the tower, see if I can’t find an owner,” Logan said.

“You do know there’s still a party upstairs and you’re a no-show after a hairy situation,” Pennyjar said.

“They can wait,” Logan said.

“Nah, Logan, I’ll man the computer you get your butt back to the party,” Marc said, he snatched Logan’s mask of his head. A spark jumped from helmet to hand. Logan glared at Marc. “Oh don’t look at me like that, Mister Moneybags.”

Logan stormed off, “Fine, but you stay here too, Jarvis.” He took off his cape and utility belt and took his formal suit.

He regained his composure and his placed his suit back on while riding the elevator back to his manor. Soon he’d made it back to the party, where the police were questioning the party guests. Bullock surprised him, shooting a question at him, “Mister Wayne, word has it you ducked out just before this all went down, want to explain that?”

“My butler took ill. Look, this was a sabotage of **my** party, officer,” Logan verbally pushed back. “What do you think I was aiming for? The title of ‘world’s worst rich guy’?”

“Stay in touch, okay?” Bullock said.

Off in one corner, he could see Rose gesturing with her head at him. He headed for her and she slipped through a nearby door. Through it the two met in a quiet and dark room.

“I tried to vouch for you, but I don’t think the cops took the testimony of a blind person seriously,” Rose said.

“You sure you’re not sighted?” Logan asked.

“I wish, but with my other senses enhanced I feel sighted. I can hear like a dog, for one.”

Logan gulped, “I see.”

“Your butler seemed pretty healthy to me but I guess not all of us can handle a gunman like I can.”

“You did set the bar pretty high.”

“I certainly passed the bar,” Rose said with a small chuckle.

“I wonder what other exams you passed. I don’t think gun license quizzes come in braille. Your coconut cologne had a hint of something more, shall I say ‘spicy’? You get into any bar fights recently? Got a nose like a dog,” Logan said.

“I’m not going to let a little thing like legal blindness get in the way of my second amendment rights,” Rose said. “Its been a long night, how about we both go home and get some rest?”

Rose returned in a taxi that Logan called, trying her best shake off irritation at Logan’s surprising observation.

Logan took out his phone and called up his subterranean computer, “Hey, Moonie. The Police need me to stay here so I will.”

“I texted your friend, Gordon, and he got back to me on who owns Arkham Tower. Its shared with a private firm that treats mentally ill criminals and the top few dozen floors a ‘Kingpin’ corporation, exclusively owned by an Edward Fisk.”

“I think we’ve found our enigmatic ‘powers that be’.” Logan said.

Elsewhere, Rose headed into her apartment complex. She entered the elevator and took out her phone, she held down on a button and said, “Call Cat’s-eye.”

“Rose? What’s the matter?” a womans voice asked.

“Wayne’s legit, and quite sharp. I don’t know if you heard but the party got attacked. If he wanted me dead, then Yortham’s newest near-billionaire could’ve figure out a better method. Instead, I think he might be a MetaMutant, and I know how much our city just **loves** those.”

“You quitting the game?” the other woman asked.

“Waylon’s been taken in by Amalgamated Justice, Deadeye’s hospitalised, and someone chased off ‘Jigsaw’ Zsasz from his dump and for the second time. Someone wants to hammer the powers that be, and **hard** and I say it’s about fucking time. I’m quitting the game because everyone else is about to be laid off, but I want to have one last hurrah, you with me?”

“Who are we going to fire?” the woman asked.

“The Big Question, himself.”

  * The Big Question aka Edward Fisk: Edward 'Riddler' Nygma, Wilson 'Kingpin' Fisk
  * Veronica Nefaria-Cale: Veronica Cale, Gulietta Nefaria aka Madam Masque
  * Moonwing: Dick 'Nightwing/Robin I' Grayson. Marc 'Moon Knight' Spector
  * Doc Croc: Waylon 'Killer Croc' Jones, Dr. Curtis 'Curt' Connors aka Lizard
  * Cats-eye: [ **To Be Revealed** ]



# Chapter 6 – Masters and Apprentices

A dark helicopter landed on the roof of Wayne’s Manor. Marc and Jarvis were both waiting for it to land. As the rotors wound down, Logan left it and approached the two. The aircraft resembled a jet, but with smaller wings. Machine guns and small artillery were attached to either side as well as the underside, accompanying the underside armaments were a camera with a pair of dishes attached above it.

“My quartermaster told me this was a combination spy/attack helicopter. Armed to the teeth but modified to fire less-lethal rounds. Its equipped with a hybrid camera capable of seeing thermals through walls and its ears have cutting-edge noise filtering tech,” Logan said.

“It sounds like a flying privacy violation,” Jarvis said, unimpressed.

“Sorry, bub. Gordon was barely able to confirm that Fisk does actually live in Arkham Tower. He has most of the innocent people tied up in Gordian knots,” Logan began.

“Which makes them no help,” Marc interjected.

“Someone’s got to cut the knots, or people like Deadeye, Zsasz, Waylon will keep menacing Yortham.”

“He who fights monsters, Master Wayne.”

Logan and Marc took off, in mere minutes they were above the city. Logan flipped a couple of switches in the cockpit and the humming of the vehicle quietened down.

“Does Edward Fisk sound right to you? I mean, you’ve been in this city for decades, surely you know something,” Logan said.

“I know Fisk’s father killed his mother, then a couple of years later his father died, no-one was charged. He took up boxing like Rose did, and about the same time, made a pretty penny off it being his own manager. Fell off the radar after that, sounds like a villain but who can be sure?”

The craft headed for the top of Arkham Tower, a saucer shaped structure a few floors in size with enough room for a couple of choppers to land on the roof. Logan pointed the camera and microphones at the buildings zenith, it quickly picked up a conversation.

“Is it just me or is Eddie getting jumpy these days?”

“It ‘Mister Fisk’ to you. But yeah, I don’t like the muscle he hired, not after that Ben guy anyway.”

“Yeah, Ben’s mean but he’s also nice, you know? Not like that cyborg, or the animal guy.”

“The croc in the sewers? He’s a psycho, can’t believe ‘Amal Jus’ let him back in the city, does Fisk know a guy?”

“I meant ‘Lethal’, the furry fella.”

“Know who they’re talking about?” Logan asked.

“Trust me, they’d have blown you out of the sky if I was the cyborg with them, believe me! No, they mean some other guy, they call him ‘Wired’. Lethal’s a MetaMutant and a hunter who’s active in Africa, takes a pretty penny or some big game to get him out here.”

Logan turned the camera down, examining the lower floors until he came to an unusual but human thermal image. Half of the man was a typical temperature while the other was much hotter in parts or much colder, “Right, that there looks like how you did as I was coming in over the Manor, you’re acquitted.

“And I didn’t even need a lawyer,” Marc said, smugly.

Logan lowered the vehicle to scan the ground floor and spotted a signature of a couple of men heading for the entrance, he zeroed the microphones in to listen.

“Fisk is little more than a manchild. He had one job and that was to maintain Yortham as a viable recruiting and training ground. If this clawed Meta’s already taken out thugs like Waylon, Zsasz, and the sniper then its not long before he goes after the others Shaytan and I trained. The cyborg, the cat-man, the negro; they’re just Eddie’s stopgap measures. My girls could beat them up with one arm each tied being their backs.”

“Y’hear that? He sounds important,” Logan said.

“I thought we were scoping the tower.”

“Fuck the tower, this guy knows something and he knows about Shaytan. I’m going to get him to sing,” Logan said.

“Shaytan? Wait Alrujue Ila Shaytan? ‘He who speaks with the Demon’? The guy who made me part machine?”

“And the guy who gave me my metal bones, kept me his living weapon for years. I tried to escape him once and ended up shot up and made a fucking pincushion while eating snow.”

The two followed the man as he entered a taxi and made his way through the city. Eventually the taxi dropped him off at a small fitness center. Logan waited for him to enter before talking to Marc. “I’m going in, wait for me.” Logan opened the door and dropped down, he opened his cape into wings and glided onto the roof of the old building. Once on it he cut the rooftop door open and crept inside. He spotted his prey, an old man holding a white rod in one arm and sorting through his keys with both hands. Logan crept up behind the old man.

“Can I help you?” the old man asked.

“What do you teach here?” Logan asked.

“What do you want to learn, come back Monday morning,” the old man said dismissively.

“You’ll want to be honest now or I’ll come back angry… Shaytan, the name mean anything to you?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” Logan took the man by the shoulder and forced him to turn, facing him. The old man’s sullen and milky eyes avoided the glowing white eyes of Logan’s mask.

“You smell like paint,” he said.

“And you smell like a fossil. I’d rather bury Fisk or Shaytan but I’ll bury you if you don’t give me answers.”

“You getting my hopes up. Sure, I’ll tell you.” The old man kneed Logan in the crotch.

Logan staggered back but quickly regained his posture. The old man swiped his rod at Logan. Logan deployed a claw and swiped it, cutting a few pieces off. He then shoved the man against the door and pressed the edge of his claws against him, making three small cuts. “No amount of kung-fu will save you from me if I decide to cut you down. You’re on your last chance.”

“Metal claws, I heard about you. You’re a rare breed even among Metas, Shaytan wants your immortality for himself. I don’t think he’d be so bothered by Fisk fucking up if it weren’t for the fact that you were doing the fucking up, yourself. You should’ve stayed anonymous, Logan, but think of this as my one favor to you. Shaytan is coming to take you back.”

“You son-of-a-bitch.” Logan held his claw to the old man’s neck while he shook with rage. The old man still breathed calmly. Logan retracted his claws. He then sunk a knee into the man’s belly. The old man heard Logan fleeing.

Hours later, a new day dawned. The old man simply sat on a bench while a small crowd of gym-goers practised and exercised in front of him. A few asked him about the cuts and his condition but only one was persistent, a woman with raven black hair draped over one eye, a woman who wore round glasses on her face, a woman well known to him; his adopted daughter Rose Slade Wilson.

Rose placed a hand on his belly and felt him twitch. “Who did this?”

“Just some thug.”

“Really? ‘Just some thug’ my ass, Winterstick. Just some random wouldn’t be able to beat you up. Even now.” She ran her hands along his face and felt the three cuts, perfectly parallel.

“Dammit Slade, get your hands off me.” Winterstick shoved her away. “Who told you anyway?”

“Kyle did, she didn’t say how she found out but she has quite a circle.”

“A circle of goddamned gossips. You’re not a boxer now, you have other places you need to be.”

“So do you, get your withered ass to a hospital, at once!”

Rose turned. While she could not see with her eyes, the sounds around her painted the environment. She could make out a rod lying on the floor, it had been cut into four pieces.

A couple of nights later, several vehicles rolled up to Wayne Manor’s front door. A large man in a tailored green suit and wooden cane, along with a dozen others. Pennyjar stalled the group at the door for a half hour when Logan arrived by his side.

“You would be?” Logan asked the large man.

“Edward Fisk, but you can call me Eddie,” he said before barging his way inside, to the butler and Wayne’s chagrin. “Truly, this is one of the greatest heritage sites of the whole New York state. Almost as old as the declaration of independence.”

“I didn’t take you for a historian, but then we barely know each other,” Logan said.

The two made their way to a nearby dining table, where Pennyjar served them tea. “I make a point of rubbing shoulders with all of Yortham city’s most distinguished, the old money and the new. Speaking of new money, I’ve never seen someone rise to wealth as quickly as you have.”

“I’m not new here, at least my family isn’t. My family’s presence here goes back a century and a half. There’s Thomas and Martha, and then there was James, or ‘Jimmy’ as most people called him.”

“I read up on Thomas and Martha, they died in a back alley after a robbery gone wrong, leaving three boys behind. As for Jimmy, he got shot dead a few years after the second world war ended.”

“And yet despite that the Waynes still persist. They’re luckier than most families here, who have to keep their heads as low as they can lest they lose them. Rose Murdock was almost one example, her client wasn’t so lucky.”

“One mad sniper and a few murders decades apart doth not a dystopia prove,” Edward said, smugly.

“Rumor has it that Deadeye got in a vehicle accident. Then Floyd Poindexter winds up in hospital, in traction, with injuries consistent with picking a fight with a moving car. Then there’s the goddamned crocodile man living in our sewers-”

“Who couldn’t be much of a threat if one cop could take him down.”

“Call it luck.”

Fisk raised his voice and an eyebros, “There’s no such thing, nor are there co-incidences. Some vigilante mutt starts taking the law into his own hands, or should I say claws. Then you come along and sponsor Yortham’s most unpopular DA candidate, who got attacked and then stole the show at her own fundraiser.”

“Was it her who was targeted or the party itself?”

“A party I hear you ducked out from when things got hairy.”

Logan gripped his cup of tea tightly enough for it to shake in his grip, he took a deep breath and drained the steaming beverage down his throat. He then hoarsely asked, “Are you done?”

Edward tossed his own cup into Logan’s face, burning his eyes. Logan let out a pained groan. He then blindly leapt over the table at Edward, who grabbed him and used his momentum to toss him to the ground. “Now we’re done,” Edward said.

Logan felt a prick in his chest and heard Edward walk away. The burning sensation in his eyes paled in comparison to the pain he felt in his chest.

After a couple of hours of intense pain, the sensation lessened and Logan could think straight again. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” he said to his butler and to Marc.

“You need to rest, you’ll have plenty of time to find him,” Jarvis said.

“Not strictly true, I picked up his conversation as he left. He said he’s organised a chopper to take him out to sea,” Marc said.

“Then we wait ‘till he gets on it and blow the damn thing out of the sky,” Logan said with a snarl.

“Absolutely not, Master Wayne. I’ve only co-operated with you up to now because you weren’t like those you fought. I find Edward a contemptible fellow but you must promise not to kill him, or I quit.”

“Fine, we take him before he leaves. He’s go to be running away from something, or someone.” Logan had a flash of realisation, “Its Shaytan, the guy who made me his weapon. He’s coming here, no, he’s already here.”

“Shaytan? Are you serious?” Marc asked.

“Who’s this Shaytan?” Jarvis asked.

“The man behind Fisk. We have to go, Jarvis. We’ll hand Fisk over to the cops, then the two of us can testify that he assaulted me and we may be able to link him to the imports of that painful chemical. Come on, Marc, we haven’t a moment to lose.”

Logan and Marc suited up and took off. As they flew into the city they could see Yortham’s police choppers surrounding the building.

“Darn, is it game over already?” Marc asked. “Who called the cops?”

“Probably Shaytan, to corner him. Its not game over yet, not if he has any hired guns on his side. He just has to hold of the police long enough to get away,” Logan said. As they neared the tower they could see the streets around it blocked off by dozens of police cars. “Alright, Moonie. Just get me near the tower top and I’ll glide the rest of-”

The alarms sounded in the helicopter, a flare flew from the rooftops of Arkham Tower straight to the helicopter. Before either could act, the rocket had already impacted the cockpit and sent it into a death spiral. Moments later it crashed down on a rooftop and exploded into a flaming heap.

Logan crawled his way out of the flaming wreckage. Once out he looked around, but could see no sight of his compatriot, “Marc! Where are you? Marc!”

The reality quickly sunk into him. He pressed his fists into the ground. The light of a police helicopter caught him as he let out a yell of agony. He threw a spike, breaking the light. The helicopter quickly fled.

Logan stood on the edge, contemplating jumping off. Down below he could see police rushing into the building, surely coming after him. As high up as he was he could only see himself gliding to a floor a third of the way up Arkham Tower. He was about to jump when he heard some thing land behind him. He turned to see the Bat-thing. “You seek to ascend the tower?”

“You’ll never make it, they’ll shoot you down before you can get near it,” Logan replied.

“I have flown by its peak many times and remained unseen. Please trust me,” it said, extending a soggy, clawed hand. “The fire from your craft is drying my skin, please make your choice quickly.”

“Fine, give me a lift. Careful, I’m heavy.”

The Bat-thing lifted Logan and muttered, “Indeed.” It took off and flew circles around the tower as it rose. Soon the two had made it to the saucer structure at the top.

“Drop me, I can glide from here,” Logan said.

The Bat-thing let him go and watched as he coasted to the rooftop. One of the armed rooftop guards spotted him land. The Bat-thing dove down and swiped the gunman, letting out a deafening roar and drew the attention of the other guards.

Logan shot his grapnel gun to the floor and leapt off the rooftop, descending to the second last floor from the roof. He extended his claws and slashed an opening in the window before swinging inside. He skulked through the circular hallways breathing repeatedly through his nose and picking up Edward’s scent. He came across a few guards, he slashed through their guns and armour before beating them with his fists. He came to a staircase leading down to the next floor, where Edwards scent trail was strong. He ran down it to a hallway that ended in a pair of large doors. But one man in armour stood between him.

The armoured man drew a broad blade from a leather scabbard. On each of his fingers except one were rings of various colours, almost all the colours of the rainbow and more. The bare finger glowed violet and the red ring on his left middle finger glowed brightest. The familiar suit of armour had several spikes coming off it, and wings on either side of the helmet, the eyes on the helmet glowed white. “A man after my own heart,” he said with a hint of an accent.

“A man after my own blood, and my claws. I knew you were coming, Shaytan,” Logan said.

“You just couldn’t help youself, coming back to your home, James, or should I call you Logan now? Did you know you stole your name from the man you killed?”

“You stole my freedom, tortured me, made a monster out of me. I refuse to be your pet again.” Logan deployed his claws and charged at Shaytan. The two traded slashes, Shaytan blocked Logan’s claws with his sword and Logan blocked Shaytan’s swipes with his claws.

“Impossible,” Logan said as he failed to even dent Shaytan’s sword.

“Did you think I wasted all that adamantite metal on you?”

Logan tried another swipe, but Shaytan dodged. Logan stumbled long enough for Shaytan to aim his yellow ring at him. It shone a yellow light at him. Shaytan changed into a large armed man holding a revolver. He fired five times, with the third shot hitting Logan and knocking him backwards. The gunman changed into an animalistic man, with a white face, green hair including a beard and on his back. He cackled like a hyena as he bared his silver fangs at Logan. He changed back to the armoured swordsman, who plunged his sword. Logan deflected it with a swipe into the floor next to him. He then swiped at Shaytan’s hand, disarming him.

Shaytan pointed his left fist at Logan. From the red ring shot out a stream of fire. Logan covered himself with his cape, which quickly shrivelled in the heat. Once he heard the stream subside he ran at Shaytan, claws extended and leapt at him. He sunk his claws deep into Shaytan’s ribcage as he let out a furious yell. He pulled his claws out, panting as his heart raced. He gasped for breath, his head throbbed. He tore what remained of his cape off. The pair of doors burst open.

Out stepped a woman dressed half in black and red. Her white haired head was covered by a bandana and eyepatch, her uncovered eye was milky white. She wore legwear which exposed her upper thighs and her costume failed to cover her muscular biceps. “If you wanted Eddie, you’re too late. He’s left the building.” She pulled the sword out of the ground

Logan climbed unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled past her into a large office room, a room with a view of the city. One of the windows had been broken. He stood on the edge and looked down to see Edward’s green-clad body far below, lit up by a police helicopter’s light.

Logan deployed his claws and faced the woman, who’s smell he recognised, “The Bald Blind Barrister-Boxer, you can change your hair and your clothes but I can still peg you as Rose Slade Murdock, you didn’t tell me you moonlighted as a vigilante.”

“I’ve seen this city’s true face, just as you have, Logan. Its grotesque. No judge has the power, nor they the will to end Yourtham’s dark law. I admit I had you wrong, thought you were just another idiot trying to buy me success to get in my pants. Didn’t realise you were gunning to be the dark law.”

“If you don’t keep your nose clean you’ll destroy all we’ve fought for, what if you’re caught?” Logan asked.

“I have an escape plan, Eddie’s. First I have to set things right. I know you attacked my father, he was a blind old man you son-of-a-bitch!” Rose attacked Logan with the sword. Logan tried to fight defensively but Rose slid the sword between his ribs. She pulled it out and shoved Logan out of the broken window.

Logan fell, landing next to Edward’s broken, lifeless body. The police chopper’s light bore down on him.

  
  


*** **TO BE CONTINUED** **IN: Assassins of Yortham – Dare the Terminator** *******

  * Alrujue Ila Shaytan: Ra's Al Ghul and The Mandarin




End file.
